I'm always really thrilled when the R.A. seems to be interested in Earth things - in an appropriate way as a regular Earthling would be interested. So I tend to encourage it. Unfortunately, in most instances, once I get involved the interest quickly wanes. But I am ever the optimist and keep trying. Or more like - I am ever the dimwit and keep trying.
Tonight was shower/bath night. We always start off with a shower. The R.A. very much enjoys his shower. Sometimes he will even stand under the water. Other times it's enough for him to stand in the tub next to the running water, sort of like standing near a waterfall. It must be those moments when he's feeling very Zen. The R.A. is no doubt calming himself after yet another exasperating run-in with his astonishingly dense caregivers.
After the shower portion of this hygiene event we move on to a bath where the actual cleaning takes place. The R.A. tolerates the cleaning portion. He does quite like having his head soaped up but like most things one has to take the good with the bad. The bad in this case being the rinsing. Often the R.A. attempts to run away from the rinser - while still in the tub. It's a mad and very wet game of chase. By the end of the bath often the parent is as wet as the child.
One would think that after being freshly laundered, the R.A. would enjoy some time in the bath. Of course he doesn't. His father and I would love it if he spent a few minutes splashing around the tub so that we could at least towel ourselves off. He's not interested in playing with tub toys. Anytime we put them in he removes them and plops them onto the floor. We've even tried Thomas the Tank Engine bath toys and no dice. (This is truly amazing and I can't help but think that a Thomas rejection such as this could cost him his Autism All the Time membership card. Surely there are strict rules governing the Thomas obsession.) Instead the R.A. immediately hits the little button that drains the tub. Of course, once all of the water is drained from the tub, now the R.A. is ready to play in the tub. Sans toys. He likes to slide around the wet tub like it's a bizarre luge run. Sometimes the R.A. gets so into it we have a hard time getting him out of the tub. Maybe he's close to beating the tub luge record.
Lately I've noticed when the R.A. is in the tub during the bath portion of the program, he seems to be drawing on the bath walls with his fingers. In my desire to encourage an Earth appropriate activity I thought it would be a good idea to give him my daughter's tub crayons. Now when it comes to the R.A. I've learned that a good offense is a good defense meaning always take an idea and saturate it with "What if" scenarios, no matter how seemingly outlandish. Tonight, as I reached for the tub crayons I did have a "What if" moment. I envisioned the R.A. enjoying his tub drawing. I was pleased. Then I envisioned the R.A. liking it so much that he spent a lot of his time drawing in the tub, even when not bathing. Then I got to the vision of the R.A. drawing in the tub with black Sharpie markers. Although one thing you can predict about the R.A. is his unpredictability, I could totally see him not recognizing appropriate tub drawing instruments verses inappropriate tub drawing instruments. This is based on experience as several walls in my home boast the R.A.'s Sharpie marker designs.
I am very proud that I managed to avoid this potential dumb ass move. Most times I'm too overwhelmed and exhausted to be remotely clever. Most days the best I aspire to is not completely incompetent. I wish I could say that a lot of the time. But as you know from this blog...
The earth-bound adventures of a reluctant alien astronaut and his not overly bright human caretakers.
So what is it like having a child with autism?
So, what is it like having a child with autism?
I get this question a lot and actually like it when people ask. Unless a person has significant contact with someone on the spectrum he/she doesn't really understand what an autism driven world is about. Saying that, it isn't always easy to convey what having a child with autism is like. After much consideration, this is what I've come up with -
For me, having a child with autism is like living with an alien from another planet. I call him the "reluctant astronaut (R.A.)" because he really didn't want to come to earth, had absolutely no interest in this space mission. As a result, he didn't pay much attention at the briefings prior to the mission so doesn't know anything about Planet Earth - nothing about language, customs, or Earthling niceties in general. In fact, he is so disinterested in Earth that even though he was sent here, he has absolutely no desire to assimilate into Earth society. Meaning he still doesn't give a rat's ass about Earth mores.
That's also how I "explain" things he does that are pretty much unfathomable to me. For example - for a certain time period he liked to sit in the toilet. No, not on the toilet but in the toilet. I reasoned that on the home planet the toilet is a jacuzzi. Although eventually we managed to break him of this habit, the jacuzzi explanation popped again during potty training when the R.A. demonstrated not only an aversion to the toilet but would have all out nuttys when placed on one. He was probably thinking, "Poop in the jacuzzi? What is wrong with you people? Miscreants!" That's what he would say if he could speak English or any Earthing dialect.
For a time I was also convinced that not only was he a reluctant astronaut but was actually an alien cat that somehow ended up in a human body. It does make sense -
Cat
Has to everything his way
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Don't touch me!
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Doesn't speak human language
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Doesn't wear clothes
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto (Well, would if he had his way)
Of course I don't really believe my son to be a Reluctant Astronaut.
But sometimes it sure makes sense!
Disclaimer: Although I sometimes describe things about life with my R.A. in a humorous way, please understand that I am not laughing at him. He is my son and I love him very very much. I come from a family that had its share of challenges and I learned from a young age that laughter is powerful. A situation cannot completely hurt you if you are able to find humor and laugh at some parts of it. So that's what I do. And I don't use humor solely with the R.A. My daughter was born with a heart condition that required immediate surgery. (No, I don't make good babies. They come out broken.) She was whisked away by ambulance to the hospital in Boston. It was all unexpected and traumatic. A nice young intern came to speak with my husband and me and was re-assuring us that nothing we had done caused the baby's condition. The stress and sorrow were overwhelming. When the nice young intern concluded I turned to my husband and said, "See, I told you it wasn't from all that smack I did during my pregnancy." The intern froze and then let out this huge belly laugh. Was I appropriate? Probably not. But I had to do something to relieve the stress. Astronaut life is stressful so find the laughter where you can.
And as G.K. Chesterton said, "Humor can get through the keyhole when seriousness is still hammering at the door."
I get this question a lot and actually like it when people ask. Unless a person has significant contact with someone on the spectrum he/she doesn't really understand what an autism driven world is about. Saying that, it isn't always easy to convey what having a child with autism is like. After much consideration, this is what I've come up with -
For me, having a child with autism is like living with an alien from another planet. I call him the "reluctant astronaut (R.A.)" because he really didn't want to come to earth, had absolutely no interest in this space mission. As a result, he didn't pay much attention at the briefings prior to the mission so doesn't know anything about Planet Earth - nothing about language, customs, or Earthling niceties in general. In fact, he is so disinterested in Earth that even though he was sent here, he has absolutely no desire to assimilate into Earth society. Meaning he still doesn't give a rat's ass about Earth mores.
That's also how I "explain" things he does that are pretty much unfathomable to me. For example - for a certain time period he liked to sit in the toilet. No, not on the toilet but in the toilet. I reasoned that on the home planet the toilet is a jacuzzi. Although eventually we managed to break him of this habit, the jacuzzi explanation popped again during potty training when the R.A. demonstrated not only an aversion to the toilet but would have all out nuttys when placed on one. He was probably thinking, "Poop in the jacuzzi? What is wrong with you people? Miscreants!" That's what he would say if he could speak English or any Earthing dialect.
For a time I was also convinced that not only was he a reluctant astronaut but was actually an alien cat that somehow ended up in a human body. It does make sense -
Cat
Has to everything his way
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Don't touch me!
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Doesn't speak human language
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Doesn't wear clothes
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto (Well, would if he had his way)
Of course I don't really believe my son to be a Reluctant Astronaut.
But sometimes it sure makes sense!
Disclaimer: Although I sometimes describe things about life with my R.A. in a humorous way, please understand that I am not laughing at him. He is my son and I love him very very much. I come from a family that had its share of challenges and I learned from a young age that laughter is powerful. A situation cannot completely hurt you if you are able to find humor and laugh at some parts of it. So that's what I do. And I don't use humor solely with the R.A. My daughter was born with a heart condition that required immediate surgery. (No, I don't make good babies. They come out broken.) She was whisked away by ambulance to the hospital in Boston. It was all unexpected and traumatic. A nice young intern came to speak with my husband and me and was re-assuring us that nothing we had done caused the baby's condition. The stress and sorrow were overwhelming. When the nice young intern concluded I turned to my husband and said, "See, I told you it wasn't from all that smack I did during my pregnancy." The intern froze and then let out this huge belly laugh. Was I appropriate? Probably not. But I had to do something to relieve the stress. Astronaut life is stressful so find the laughter where you can.
And as G.K. Chesterton said, "Humor can get through the keyhole when seriousness is still hammering at the door."
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